foodsmug lifesmug recaps

KERF Recaps: Reboot Edition, Post 106

Posted on June 19, 2013 4:12 am by conchshell

After an exhausting week not working to attend her sister’s wedding and eat free cake, Kathy and Bath Matt selflessly and tirelessly forced themselves to endure another weekend of wedding festivities — this time in Georgetown, home of Another College They Couldn’t Get Into No Matter How Many Harry Potters Were Read In Spanish.

The weekend started with Bath Matt going up by train to par-tay and Kathy staying at home to bravely soldier through that thing they have every Friday that’s for free where people eat out of Tupperware and sit on Slankets with their yapping children and listen to free music and she was asleep by 9 p.m., whereas the naughty Matt was PROBABLY up until dawn.

(I think we were getting up when Matt was going to bed!)

At least the seemingly loathsome carpenter has some kind of passion that can keep him up until dawn — even if it is just cutting loose with his frat brothers. Jesus. Way to be a Greek yogurt-soaked blanket, Kathy.

So she drove up with Bath Matt’s mom, who babysat Baby Carbz during the wedding, during which Kathy took this photo of their male “college buddies,” who look like they are realizing how hard it is to look Roger Sterlingdapper in a suit while consuming that much alcohol, even among a crowd that leans towards the sartorial statements of Too Excited To Wear Sunscreen Or Pick ONE neckline, or alternately, Whatever As Long As I Can Wear Hangover Shades:

An A- for effort, but still, Coco Chanel said “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory” for a reason, Kathy.

Kathy decided to share with the world the fact that she wore silver cork sandals to the ceremony before putting on denim flats for a walk a few blocks to the reception, because you know how delicious your feet will feel after two freaking minutes in the rank-smelling, sodden, swamp-rot inducement that is a Payless shoe.

Once there, she took photos of the venue’s “historic picturesque garden setting,” er, its standard EXIT-signed doorways

and herself and Bath Matt standing outside, he in a tux, she in her PAYLESS DENIM FLATS, scuffins looking cinched/Photoshopped to the buttercream-loving sky.

Because apparently LOFT makes whalebone corset wrap dresses now. Who knew. So they stood there and “sipped” booze and “nibbled on passed apps,” which sounds too much like a kidney stone for comfort, until the groom and his cummerbund — oh, and his bride — showed up. Seriously, dude, that tight scrap of satin looks like it’s making you a little too happy.

The groom was one of Bath Matt’s frat brothers, and the people in the background are amazing.

Slender Drew Carey, at left, is keeping a passel of women out of the dance room while being very intimate with a beer. Steve Buscemi, on the right, having forgotten where the rest of his axes are, is regretting that surf rock phase of his when he was 15, holds his turquoise guitar and thinks about the indiscretions of his past.

Finally, the Younger-Smugsons ate something that was totally better than Larbs’ buffet: Kathy, “as per usual,” describes it with her most shining praise by saying (twice) that the meal and the salad were “one of the best [she's] ever had.” With one sentence between these two vows of best-ness. Because that is evocative, descriptive language that totally doesn’t sound like you thought it up on the bus ride to school:

I feel like buffets are so popular, but this was a night where a plated dinner really shone…

…Buffalo mozzarella with watercress with sliced grapes, edible flowers, parmesan [sic] crisps in a lavender-honey-lime vinaigrette. Underneath it all was a pistachio pesto of sorts. Incredible! The main course was a perfectly rare* beef tenderloin topped with sautéed mushrooms and spinach, Maryland crabcake with a peppercorn sauce, sweet corn soufflé, asparagus and tomatoes. I couldn’t decide which of the flavors I liked the most!

She also calls the Oreo truffles the bride made “First Dessert,” because she is such a self-proclaimed nerd, having read Tolkien like once. Also, the cake had black fondant cicadas on top

Way to totally not remind anyone of pubic lice, bedbugs, roaches….

and Kathy, in comments — after letting her urges to obliterate the cake get the best of her scant ability to assemble subjects and verbs —

OREO cake!! Gah I loved this filling. They also had red velvet and carrot cake. I had bites of all three from friends – but the Oreo was my fav.

— ravenously says she would have eaten ALL OF IT. (Even after looking at those sweat-stained denim flats?)

Uh, how’s that quest for perfect “satiety” going again? Oh, you’re still eating off other people’s plates? Carry on.

* As opposed to imperfectly rare. Or “well-done.”

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foodsmug recaps

KERF Recaps: Reboot Edition, Post 105

Posted on June 18, 2013 4:55 am by conchshell

Monday’s, um, stolen and reappropriated recipe “by” Kathy reminds me of that “Full House” where Michelle is trying to earn her “honeybee badge for cooking.”

Michelle: I call it Michelle’s Pudding Surprise!
Becky: Oh sounds delicious! What’s the surprise?
Joey’s face is disgusted
Joey: I think it’s cheese.
Michelle: Surprise!
DJ: Michelle you put cheese in the pudding?
Michelle: Velveeta, and that’s not all!
Danny: Mmm….Olives.
Michelle: Don’t you like it?
Everybody: Oh..it’s very good..
Michelle: Then how come nobody’s swallowing?
Everyone forces themselves to swallow
Come now, Conch. Kathy just made a self-proclaimed “casserole” from beans, “veggies,” and chicken. One that she got the “technique” from her “mom’s group Facebook page.” (Even though she put “By Kath Younger” at the end of “her” recipe on this post.) She merely took her own “stab at it.” How badly can you fuck that up? Even YOU could make a casserole, right?* Well, let’s just see how Kathy thinks this whole cooking thing should go:
As the chicken cooks it drips flavor and seasons everything down under. Moreover, you can assemble this in the morning and bake it off when the baby is crawling underfoot and you just want dinner to be ready already!
Which is funny, her referencing cooking, considering the finished product turns out looking like it was dusted with whatever shade of champagne sunburn rouge at her sister’s recent wedding. (Also, really? You’re going to advise people to pile uncooked chicken on top of canned, already-cooked beans and frozen vegetables and think that having it sit around all day is safe? Kathy, is your critical thinking as thixotropic as your upside-down Whole Foods ketchup?)
Also, regarding Baby Carbz being “underfoot” — is it possible that she had him just to seem legitimately harried, stressed, and overextended?
Anyway, she opened a can of Whole Foods garbanzo beans (in focus) and a can of less-social-cache Harris Teeter navy beans, picked the most pitiful sprigs of oregano and basil from her porch pots,
Anyway, she mixed her two cans of beans and her Baby Carbz-sized handful of herbs in a dish with some frozen green beans, then put frozen boneless, skinless chicken on top and cooked for a scant 45 minutes. Pop quiz — is this what the dish looked like before or after being cooked?
I’m not sure this dish is improved even with salt, pepper, olive oil and that preserved Styrofoam-esque Garlic Gold. Does this even count as a “recipe”?
It ultimately looks like either the make-do last supper of a WWI soldier whose eyes the nurses hope have been scorched so bad he can’t tell the meat is underdone or a culinary rendition of Fremdschämen at 425 degrees.
*Probably not. Last time I did that, I used an entire bottle of triple sec and people were drunk by the third bite.
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foodsmug recaps

KERF Recaps: Reboot Edition, Post 104

Posted on June 17, 2013 5:45 am by conchshell

Kathy, consumes “real food,” insomuch as the things she puts in her mouth aren’t ideas or theories or futuristic spheres of quantum oats that may or may not exist, took a bunch of photos of Mobius strip meals from she-doesn’t-even-know-when:

I’m really not sure when these meals begin or end! I try to contain them all in one week, but my Lately folder is piling up with all kinds of meals from before and after the beach : )

She put a bunch of them up in her weekly play-by-play installment “Lately,” which seems to just serve as an image dump so that, years from now, Baby Carbz will be able to look back and know what his mom was doing that morning instead of paying attention to him or not folding laundry. Or, in Kathy’s words:

So let’s see what’s been eatin’ on:

I don’t even know what that means. Let us see what has been eating on? What WHAT has been eating on? Thank you, Kathy, for showing us what the thin line between White Girl Attempting Phony Casualness and YOU SOUND LIKE A FLESH-EATING BACTERIUM.

So anyway, for breakfast, Kathy ate:

Cheerios with yogurt over a pile of berries. It was strawberry crazy over here! Wild Friends chocolate coconut on top. Looks like a little granola crumble too!

— which I guess proves that she doesn’t even write down notes on what she’s taking photos of. Also, neither buying a shit-ton of strawberries nor utilizing granola are items worthy of exclamation points. She also had yogurt, Kamut puffs, berries, and that gross-sounding sweet nut butter that sounds like it’s made by swingers.

You can tell I ate a lot of the same things this week : ) Also that most of the days were rainy!

Yes, seeing photos of the same meals does tend to make one think you ate the same thing over and over. But what the fuck does that have to do with the weather?

Another day, she ate that gross thing where she soaks oats overnight and then blends it and then put the lotion on its skin and eats it in a bowl:

This one was a raspberry blast! It was the same recipe as the strawberry banana but with raspberries instead. Kamut puffs, extra rasp. and Wild Friends on top.

Because pouring fucking cereal in a bowl and pouring some kind of milk over it would leave her with an extra 20 minutes to wonder what she’s doing with her life and why she needs the extra time to abbreviate “raspberry.”

Mostly, she eats fakery leftovers: one piece of egg-coated bread she calls French toast with banana, berries, chia seeds and peanut butter on it one morning, or half a bun “slathered” in sunflower seed butter, one egg, and like nine strawberries another morning. This is the extent of her so-called food commentary:

I want to eat this again!

Lunches are a bunch of salads based on a lack of effort combined with stuff from the much-touted garden. One, over which she is far too excited, is lettuce,

avocado, Caromont Farm goat feta (!), leftover tofu and sweet potatoes and a Spinach Feta roll … With a peach on the side

Another is a meatless fake burger patty collapsed on a bowl of lettuce, some unmelted OMGLOCAL cheese, some strange, errant radish and a bowl of cherries. She has the same thing another day, but with another kind of cheese, prompting this so-called sentence:

Love having bleu cheese in the house again.

Because Little Ms. Present Progressive totally lives at McMurdo fucking Station, instead of like 2.6 miles from a Whole Foods.

Finally, she has a tofu pesto salad from the fakery, which seriously looks like some lettuce in an ersatz Whole Foods hot trough container, with two monoliths of tofu smeared in pesto on top, four careless whispers of cucumber, and a tiny shot of dressing on the side.

I’m obsessed with our house balsamic dressing!

Obsessed, huh? I won’t believe it until I see the votive candle-lit altar complete with hastily torn newspaper clippings underlined in crayon.

Egg-celent salad of greens from our garden, bleu cheese, salt, olive oil, honey, 2 eggs, avocado and cherries. Fabulous!

Because nothing is more appetizing than the thought of picking stems and seeds out of something drenched in egg yolk.

She only includes one dinner, thank goodness, because it’s this grim diorama of baked tofu, sweet potatoes and asparagus

with the following picture of what she calls a “sweet potato toppings bar”:

She ends with what she calls “a fun note” — an update on Baby Carbz, saying that he ate a bunch of salmon, avocado and “broccoli bits” this week and he now likes to pull up on his windowsill,

We look at the garden morning, noon and night.

— because heaven forbid she take him out there and trim some of those horrible kale buds or whatever. Anyway, she went outside and shot this grim photo of grey on grey on grey on grey, saying she

went outside to surprise him before bed!

Because I’m sure that’s comforting for a tiny baby who can’t even propel himself forward with the strength and coordination of his own body. But, coming from someone who eats oats that have been soaked in liquid overnight, perhaps no one should rely on her definition of “comfort.”

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